Alcohol Series
by Companion of Insanity
Summary: Everyone has problems, everyone makes blunders. And sometimes alcohol is the best solution for handling things.
1. Whiskey for your Stupidity?

Danny stared down at the small amount of alcohol that dared him to finish it. The light of the bar winked at him through the whiskey's reflection. He sighed and took his glasses off. He hated himself so much right now.

Lindsey had thrown him out for the night. He'd earned it. Though they'd fought over something stupid, he couldn't be sure what, anymore, he'd said the wrong thing.

And sweet Montana's response was to show him the door. You know,the wooden thing with the knob? Rather than go to his crummy apartment and curl up in an empty bed, he chose to sit down in a bar and reflect on his actions instead. Or at least, forget about them first. So far, he'd downed two shots of whiskey, one shot of tequila and a beer. Needless to say, he was starting to feel a bit dizzy.

''Messer, do I need to cut you off?''

Danny glanced up at the bartender. He shrugged and nudged the nearly empty shot glass forward.

''Might be a good idea,''he muttered,''Gimme some ice water. I gotta walk home.''

The bartender smiled and took the glass away.

''Stupid Lindsey bein' fucking pregnant and her stupid mood swings...''he drunkenly slurred.

Yup. He definitely deserved to be tossed out tonight. Serves him right for not getting a pregnant woman her fish sticks and soft pretzels. Was she always that moody? _No, just since the pregnancy,_ Danny's mind corrected.

''Ah, you pissed off your girl again, eh?''

''Well, Artie, it ain't hard to do when she's pregnant.''

Artie laughed. ''No, it's not.''

A freezing glass of water and jingling ice cubes slid into Danny's vision. He glanced at it, trying to remember why he had traded in his whiskey for water before he carefully brought it to his lips and started chugging.

It was cold, the cubes of ice tickled the tip of his nose as he drank, but he did feel his brain starting to clear up. He still needed those grey cells for work. Mac would kill him if he showed up to the lab with a hangover, but that would be more merciful than what Stella would do. She'd just rupture his ear drums with screaming and lecturing.

The glass slammed down against the wood of the bar as Danny fought for air,having chugged half of the refreshing liquid down. He shook his head, and his surroundings slowly became a bit clearer.

 _'Almost sober enough,'_ he thought.

''Don't drink that down too quick! You'll give yourself a headache,''Artie warned, scrubbing at a mug.

The New York Italian caught his breath finally and chugged down the rest of the ice water.

A sudden but unsurprising shriek escaped his lips as he gripped his head for a moment. Ah, the joys of brain freeze. His nose started running, he just used his sleeve to clean it up. Minutes ticked by slowly, and Danny became aware that the bartender was chuckling quietly.

''Feel better?'' Artie cracked a toothy grin at his frequent patron.

''Laugh it up,wise guy.'' But Danny had to admit his head was a lot clearer now. No hangover for this CSI in the morning, no siree. But he and his bottle of Tylenol were going to be close friends when he got home.

He sat up and looked at the clock. Was it really an hour after closing time? The blond looked around and saw he was the only patron left in the bar.

''You let me stay?''he asked Artie.

The bartender shrugged. ''My wife's in one of her moods. Figured I'd work late and let her cool off, then bring home a king size chocolate bar or something as an apology.''

''Chocolate isn't the answer to everything, ya know,''Danny remarked.

Artie set a clean glass down and picked up a wet one to dry it. ''Wanna bet? Woman's enjoying those few delightful days she gets once a month.''

''Oh. Well, I gotta get home. I don't get to bed soon, I'll be late for work in the morning. Boss will have my skin if I'm late.''

The Italian grabbed his glasses,got to his feet and was surprised at how steady he was. That cold water had cleared his head more than he'd realized. He waved at Artie, glanced at the clock once more, and walked out the door, letting its puny bell jingle in his ears without causing any pain.

The cool night air hit him pretty hard, but Danny managed to hold his ground against it and remain standing.

Maybe he should call Lindsey and have her get him... No, not a good idea. Montana was still pissed at him for sure. Besides,if he wanted to sober up the rest off the way, he needed to walk...unfortunately. So, Danny placed one foot forward as a test, to make sure the ground didn't decide to be up. He was steady,so the other foot came forward.

Still balanced. Good. He finally started walking. Slowly and calmly of course, he didn't want to move too fast.

After all, he still needed to work on an apology for Lindsey. Now he remembered what had gotten him booted out of the house. She had randomly started crying and rambling about how she looked fat with her baby bump in the mirror.

 _''You're not fat,''Danny tried to calm her down. He looked at her as she cried at her reflection._

 _'Okay, maybe a little,and the swollen ankles don't help,'his brain went._

 _At least, Danny had thought it was his brain that had said that. He didn't realize that those words had actually come out of his mouth until he noticed that Lindsey had stopped crying and was glaring at him with reddened cheeks._

 _''You think I'm fat?!''she screamed._

 _'Oops.' ''Well,you think so,but you're not!''he tried to cover,''Yer just-''_

 _''-Bloated like a beluga whale?!''Lindsey shrieked._

 _''... ... ...No?''he tried._

That had been the short of it. And forgetting her fish sticks is what had started the whole thing.


	2. Cheese to go with that Wine?

Mac didn't know what to do. He'd made some blunders before, but this set an all time high for him. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and tried to think. Tried to process what he'd just been told. Tried to process what Stella had just told him.

''Run that by me one more time?''he asked softly.

''Really?''Stella scoffed,''You're not serious. You heard me loud and clear, Mac!''

The marine buried his face in his hands. ''Please? Just one more time?''

''I'm pregnant.''

There was a deep exhale and Mac turned around, proceeding to bang his head on the cupboards. He really should have seen this coming. He'd been out of condoms for a while and neither of them had been given the opportunity to stop at a pharmacy and buy more. Or to get together in bed until about two months ago. He'd been content to just go to sleep one night, but Stella was in the mood and had cuffed him to the bed.

The Greek in his kitchen was barely dressed, wearing only black panties and one of his shirts, his red one to be exact, which was also barely buttoned. Mac didn't want to turn around. He didn't need to. He'd seen it already. Stella, kind of sort of clothed with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a pregnancy test in her hand...which she was impatiently tapping her finger against, and let's not forget the hand on her hip, as she was waiting for a response from the marine.

A moment went by and Mac's head ceased colliding with the cabinet. Honestly, he was handling this better than she thought he would.

''How far along are you?''he asked neutrally.

''Um, still early. Couple of weeks...''

''Early enough to be at risk,''he finished,and he felt her nod. ''Yup.''

Mac finally turned and looked at her, and he couldn't help the smile on his face. ''You know Don and Danny are never going to let me hear the end of this.''

''Oh, I know! Picture the great workaholic ex-marine by-the-book Mac Taylor in the hospital with one of his CSI's, who he broke several fraternization rules to be with, waiting for her to deliver a baby! Are you kidding? Don will loose it! And Lindsey might lend you one of her books of names!''

Mac plopped himself down in one of the kitchen chairs and groaned. ''No way is _that_ landing on my desk.''

Stella was enjoying herself. That much was clear as she joined him at the table.

''Where's the wine?''he all but begged. Mac Taylor didn't beg.

''Oh,come on,Mac! Raising a kid should be fun!''

''Stell,where's the wine?''

The Greek was trying really hard to refrain furom laughing at the predicament she'd just put the man in. ''Mac,we're _out_ of whine.''

''We're not out of wine.''

''Uh, yes, we are out of whine. I finished it.''

The marine's head hit the table. ''Why did you finish the wine?''

''Because I can!...Where are you going?!''

Mac had gotten up from the table and gone into the coat closet in the hallway. ''I'm going to get more wine so I can drink enough to pass out and deal with this in the morning.''

Stella sat down in the living room and giggled. ''Oh, while you're out, can you get me a thing of wanton soup and a box of Lucky Charms?''

She heard Mac's head meet the door just once, and it was followed by a groan of either disgust or annoyance. She couldn't be sure. Truth was Mac felt sick at the Greek's choice of food.

"Sure." The door clicked shut, and Stella promptly moved to the couch to get comfortable and click on the TV.

* * *

"Mac? You're never out drinkin' this late. Hell, you're never drinking!"

Mac's head had been planted on the bar's counter with a few empty shot glasses nearby when he heard the voice. "Go away, Don."

The order was slurred, but still somewhat understandable.

"Oh no. I don't think so. You're too drunk to drive your ass home." The Irishman sat down next to him and ordered a soda. He had planned on having something to get a slight buzz, but making sure the lab boss got home okay was now more important.

Don took his glass of Coke and starting sipping away at it. His foot tapped impatiently against the bar stool. He was really hoping to get slightly drunk tonight, just to unwind. He heard a plastic bag rustling several times and after several minutes looked down.

''Wanton and Lucky Charms? Really?''he quipped.

''Not mine... 's Stella's,''Mac growled softly, but loud enough for the detective to hear.

Don shrugged and went back to drinking his soda, relishing in the sweet artificial sugar and carbonation tingling his teeth.

There was music going in the background, mostly gentle rock music. The crowd in the bar was smaller than usual tonight. Of course, this was around the time regular patrons were getting short on cash and their paychecks were due either tomorrow or the next day. It was nice.

''I should probably get home,''Mac slurred after a few minutes.

"Alright." Don got up and grabbed the bag that had been sitting by Mac's feet and left. The marine at the bar looked up, confused by his surroundings. He sighed heavily and carefully nudged his latest shot glass towards some older ones. Don came back afterwards.

"Can you walk?"the Irishman questioned.

Mac looked at him and blinked a few times. "Probably not,"he answered honestly.

The world was a swirl of movement after that. Patrons became colored blobs in Mac's vision and the lights seemed to brighten and it made him wince. The marine distinctly felt his arm being pulled over a shoulder and a hand at his waist. But in the end, it failed to register in his brain that he had been moved from his barstool.

Don made sure he had a firm grip on the Marine, carefully maneuvering him from his seat to the door and out to the car. Mac noted the change of seating, the car's leather far more comfortable than being hunched over on a wooden bar stool. He felt his back was now supported properly, bringing some comfort.

A faint line of red had appeared on his face, Don noticed, telling him that Mac had been drinking more than just whiskey.

"Mac, what did you drink?"

The marine's eyes narrowed in confusion for a minute before he answered. "Wine and whiskey... ...I think the bartender cut me off...?"

"Hope so,"the Irishman quipped,"You don't typically drink in public."

Mac was so drunk that it took Don getting the car started and on the road before he replied.

"Not my fault,"he slurred.

"Yeah, right. What made you even drink that much?"

Mac, despite all the pressure he'd been under in his life to keep certain things secret, spilled the beans.

"I knocked Stell up,"he grumbled.

In the back of the marine's mind, he distinctly heard tires screeching to a halt. Suddenly his stomach lurched as the force of the stop threw him forward.

"Don...please don't slam on the brakes!"the man practically cried. One arm had shot out to the dashboard to brace himself, and the other was covering his mouth.

"Stella's pregnant?!"

Mac supported himself against the dashboard for a little longer before he could answer.

"It's not my fault,"he countered,"we were out of protection and she talked me into it!"

A soft thud resounded in the back of Mac's mind, followed by another, and another, and another. Lo and behold, Mac looked up to find Don beating his head against the steering wheel, stifling laughter as best as he could.

"Don, just get me home, please."

* * *

Stella looked up from the TV when a knock came from the front door. Actually, it sounded a little dull for a knock.

 _"Get the door, Stella! My hands are full!"_

The Greek blinked and slid the latch on the door and pulled it open. What greeted her was truly a first.

Don had Mac's arm pulled around his shoulder and his left hand gripped the marine's hip, firmly supporting him. Mac was out. His head hung downward with a streak of red running from ear to ear slightly visible in the dim lighting of the hallway.

"He _did_ say he was going to drink until he passed out."

She reached out to help him and was promptly snapped at.

"Move it, Stella! You're pregnant and he's heavy!"

The Greek backed up as Don pushed past. "Damn, he's _really_ heavy!"

She winced as very loud stumbling steps echoed through the apartment. "He's not that heavy, Don. I can lift him,"she called out.

A dull thud signaled the marine's body hitting the mattress. Stella curled up on the couch with her bare legs hanging over the arm. The Irishman came back, a hand supporting his back and doing his absolute best to crack it back into place.

''Isn't that one of Mac's good shirts?''

"Mine now,"she answered flatly. Don chuckled and went into the kitchen.

"So. Pregnant, huh?"

Stella rolled her eyes at the matter-of-fact tone from Don.

''Yup!''she finally replied cheerfully.

The Irishman made some noise in the kitchen, and a few minutes later the smell of coffee hit Stella's nostrils...and not in a good way. She got up as quickly and as carefully as she could and made her way to the bathroom. Don was just about to take a sip of his coffee when he heard the glorious sounds of the Greek emptying her stomach.

"Well, there goes my appetite,"Don muttered. His mug hit the counter.

Stella stayed in the bathroom until there was nothing left in her stomach and eventually came trudging out to the living room with her hand on her stomach and her face practically green.

''No coffee, Don. Please...'' A groan emitted and Don dumped his mug in the sink.

''I kind figured that. Didn't really have any hope of finishing it, anyway.''

The Greek curled up on the couch again and turned the volume. She gave an unhappy grunt when Don came out to join her; she had to move her legs out of the way.

''If you don't mind me askin', how did you get into bed with _Mac_?''

Stella looked at him and started giggling.

''What's so funny?''he demanded.

The brunette sat up and grabbed a blanket from under the couch. ''One of the lab techs spiked his water. And even _Mac_ can't fight that. I think it was one of the newbies. Oh, the look of pure embarrassment and suffering on his face... I felt bad for him, but it was so funny.''

Don just looked at her. ''Someone actually pulled a fast on him? Wow.''

The late night news started running, covering the latest solved murder case. Another politician was dead. Whoopee. The more, the merrier, right? Lousy weather predictions, and issues on the other side of the Atlantic. The latest celebrity break-up made Don snatch the remote and change the channel to cartoons, and Stella was less than pleased to hear and see a yellow sponge dancing with a jellyfish on her screen.

''Really?''she quipped.

''Hey, you'll burn more brain cells watching the news.''


End file.
